After The Storm
by Willow Edmond
Summary: Seth's betrayal was just part of the script, right? So, why is Dean so worried that this is the end of the friendship? And why is Roman worried that Seth's friendship isn't the only thing he's set to lose, because things at home aren't all that great either.
1. Chapter 1

**Attempted Damage Control**

I originally had a very bad title for this story. I won't say what it was and the story was only around under the title for about an hour, but it was a very inappropriate title for a story, especially on this particular day.

If you saw the title and were offended, all I can do is throw myself at your mercy. I did not mean to make light of anything or insult anyone. I was unable to come up with a title and one of my beta readers suggested the title and I was exhausted and wasn't thinking. I know this isn't an excuse, but it is the truth and I am very, very, very sorry. I have changed the name and in the future I will try to think before I do something that dumb again.

**Author Notes**

Before you write me to tell me I got some names wrong, you need to read this.

My own, number one, personal rule about fanfiction is this; **I do ****not**** write fanfiction about real people. ** It's a rule I've had since day one. (No, this is not the first fanfiction I've ever written, it's just the first time I've ventured into writing about Sports Entertainers) Any time I've had "real life" people in my stories, they've had a small role, they've never been the main characters. In most cases, they've been no more than a mention as in, "They were going to see Justin Timberlake in concert that night."

What does that have to do with this story? Well, it explains a couple things. 1: You will never hear me refer to the members of Shield as "Joey" "Colby" or "Jonathan Good" (Jon Moxley, maybe, because Moxley is as much of a character as Dean is) Because once I do that, I cross the line and that is something that makes me uncomfortable. I am willing to write fictional stories about Roman, Dean, and Seth, but not about the actors/superstars/professional wrestlers that play them.

Nor will I use the real names of Leati "Joe" Anoa'i's fiance and daughter, even though I decided that at least in this story, he has a fiance and daughter. I know the names, they aren't hard to find, but I won't use them because they aren't _characters,_ they are real life people. So, instead, since there is no fictional name for them, in my fiction world, Roman's fiance is named Jessica and his daughter is named Leah.

How did I pick those names? Well, Jessica was easy, because I once read on the internet that was the name of Joe Anoa'i's fiance. That turned out to be a mistake made by the reporter, but I decided to use it for the story, because at the time she was born, Jessica was a pretty popular name, so it worked.

Why Leah? Because I thought it was pretty. No other reason. (Although, I think the real name of the daughter of Joe Anoa'i is a much prettier name) And, the name just seemed right to me. It suggested a cute, smart, happy little who I figured would be the daughter of Roman Reigns. (Let's face it, any father who is happy to play "I'm a little Teapot" is bound to have a pretty happy, well adjusted kid)

The personalities I've given "Jessica" and "Leah" are my own inventions too, and come only from my imagination and I've kept physical descriptions as vague as possible. Any resemblance to the daughter and fiance of Joe Anoa'i, is purely coincidental.

The other thing you should know is that this story is rated mature mostly because of language and dialog. It isn't slash, but there is some pretty crude sexual dialog said at times. And a lot of swearing. A boatload of swearing. Not because I think Dean and Roman are huge on swearing, but because they're having a hell of a rough night.

This is one of the hardest things I've ever written. First because it's a strange world, professional wrestling. Unlike most fanfiction the lines between the actors and the characters is much more blurry. Second, because even though wrestling is "sports entertainment" I've never ever seen a fictional relationship that seemed as real and as strong as the one between the three members of The Shield, which is why it blew my tiny mind away when the break up happened, and which is why I found myself writing this. It's my way of dealing with what happened and how I think they would have. You might agree, you might disagree, the nice thing about fanfiction is that we're both wrong and we're both right at the same time.

One last thing, I am sorry for the weird "breaks." This was written as one story and I was originally going to post it as one huge part. But it got so big that I realized that could make loading difficult for some folks and would also make it difficult if people wanted/had to read the story in parts instead of the entire thing at once. But it is finished and if all the parts aren't up yet, they will be soon, if reaction is favorable.

Thank you for reading this. And if after this, you decide to continue, I hope you enjoy the story. I hope it creates enough of a reaction that you feel obligated to review it too!

**After The Storm**

Dean wasn't pissed, Dean was hurt. Roman knew that as clearly as he knew the world, or at least the version he and Dean shared, had been blown to bits tonight. Nothing would ever be quite the same and that was exactly what was hurting Dean so badly.

The problem though, was that Dean hurt was almost exactly like Dean pissed, the only difference being Dean hurt was just a little bit worse. "That fucker!" exploded from his mouth for the fifth time in the last six seconds. "That back stabbing mother_fucker__!_"

Roman looked over at Dean, but said nothing. They were in the rental car and although Roman had wanted to drive, Dean had insisted and eventually, Roman relented, just to give the lunatic something to do that wouldn't involve tearing the vehicle to bits from the inside out. The last time he'd gone crazy in a rental car, they had to lie and tell the rental agency that an angry Ryback fan must have broken in and trashed it as a protest for their treatment of his (or her) favorite WWE superstar. Thank god they had opted for the insurance, or they'd probably still be paying for that one. Roman remembered the look on the agent's face as she inspected the car. "There are toothmarks in the seat cushions!" she had exclaimed, and then repeated it, in a louder voice, for good measure. "_Toothmarks!_"

Roman had shrugged, doing his best to look boyishly cute, which he could do pretty easily, as long as he got a smile on his face. He took a lot of grief for that, especially from Dean. "You do such an awesome bad-ass, until you get that goofy grin all over your face. Then you go from Terminator to teddy bear. It's annoying." He figured teddy bear was a much better bet with the rental agent and let "that goofy grin" spread over his face.

"Ryback fans are a pretty dedicated lot," he said, debating if he should throw in a "baby girl" or "darling," but deciding against it. The agent was young, attractive, and most definitely checking him out, but he was trying to be contrite, not flirty. "We really worked him over that night. I don't think it was right for them to trash the car, but I kind of understand why they'd be upset."

As it turned out, the agent wasn't a wrestling fan, but her brother was, so a simple matter of signing autographs and digging out one of the Shield T-shirts from their luggage and handing it over and the matter was resolved, but, Roman didn't want to repeat the situation. He was afraid Dean might not just take out his hurt on the car, but turn on Roman as well. And surprisingly enough, Dean was a really good driver, even when he was upset. He might be traveling a little above the speed limit, he might be spouting curses like a fountain, but he was watching the road.

"How could he?" Dean sputtered again. "Back stabbing, mother fucking sonofabitch, did you see the mother fucking smug ass look on his ugly goddamned mother fucker face?" He cut his eyes briefly from the road to look at Roman, then shifted to look back out the front window. "He _loved_ it. He fucking _**loved**_ it."

Roman tried to make his sigh more internal than external, but a small hiss of air escaped. Dean was pretty bad, maybe worse than Roman had ever seen him before. He was clutching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. _His hands are going to cramp something bad later if he doesn't loosen that grip, _Roman found himself thinking. He debated if he should say something, but changed his mind.

"'Oh, it's not that I _wanted_ to do it, but it was in the script,'" Dean said in a high falsetto voice, but anyone who knew him would know he was giving an insulting, but pretty decent imitation of Seth Rollins. "'I'm sorry if I really hurt you, Dean, but we had to make it look good!'" He stopped the imitation and went back to being Pissed Dean. "That _motherfucker_! Like I'd admit he did damage, which he didn't. Not gonna give that mother fucker the satisfaction. And he_ wanted_ to hurt me. I could fucking tell!"

"It _was_ part of the script," Roman said, before he could think if disagreeing with Dean was a good idea or not. The murderous glare from Dean made him continue quickly, "you weren't the only one who got messed up tonight. My back isn't exactly thanking me."

"Shit, yeah, I know," Dean said, sounding almost contrite as he remembered he hadn't been the only one involved in the betrayal. "They really did a number on you too, are you okay?"

Roman shrugged. "It's superficial, welts, bruises, things like that. I'll be fine, this won't even slow me down, but it stings like..." _Like the time I got bees in my pants as a kid_, he thought, but didn't say.

"A motherfucker?" Dean finished for him instead.

"Yeah, good way of putting it." Roman chuckled, more to himself. Neither he or Dean were huge on the profanity for absolutely no reason, something that surprised some of Dean's fans, they often figured he swore a blue streak when he wasn't in a situation where he had to keep it PG, but in truth, Dean was smart, pretty well read, and had a decent grasp of language. He could express himself just fine in most instance without having to resort to unnecessary swearing. But when he was mad or hurt, then watch out, because he could swear enough to make Eminem blush.

Roman himself wasn't overly sensitive to swearing, and had done his fair share of it in the past, but he had been trying not to since his daughter had started talking and proved to be excellent at hearing and repeating every word she shouldn't. He remembered the time she had accidentally spilled a glass of apple juice on the kitchen floor. As the glass was falling, she had gasped and yelled, "Oh, _shit__!_" Roman's first reaction was to burst out laughing, but fortunately, he'd caught the eye of his girlfriend and the look on her face made it deadly clear that if Roman even thought about cracking a smile, he'd be in the doghouse for a yet-to-be determined amount of time. Instead they cleaned up the juice, did their best to explain to a toddler why some words were okay to say and some were not, and tried every since to never say words around her that they didn't want her to repeat. For good measure, they set up a swear jar in the house with a dollar penalty. But he knew the best way to never make the mistake was to try not to swear no matter where he was, not just around his daughter so he was doing his best. As far as he knew, his daughter had never sworn again, either, at least not in earshot of her parents.

_God__,__ I miss her,_ Roman's thought wasn't profane, instead it was almost a prayer, or perhaps a statement of fact made to whatever deity watched out over sports entertainers as they traveled in rental cars late at night. _I miss both of them. I'm living the dream, but sometimes the price is too high.__ And I don't want to pay that price, I don't want to lose them. _

"Are you gonna be okay?" Dean asked, looking over at Roman again. "I mean, your back and all?"

"Yeah, like I said, this won't even slow me down," Roman said, partially relieved that Dean had pulled him out of his thoughts. _One issue at a time, he told himself. Later you can worry about the home front, right now, deal with this. Deal with the end of Shield__ and l__et Dean get this out of his system. _ "It's like having lots of paper cuts. It stings and burns, and isn't fun, but if I can't take this, I'm in the wrong profession." He was downplaying the pain, it was actually pretty bad, but he wasn't going to let Dean know that, he didn't need to give Dean another reason to go off. "Part of me thinks Orton wasn't all that upset about showing me what happens when you mess with Evolution."

"It's a damned _show_," Dean sputtered, as if suddenly remembering how pissed he was. "It's supposed to be _fiction__!_ I mean, Jesus Christ on a Painted Motherfucking pony, it's not supposed to be _real__!_"

"Exactly," Roman said, tugging at the seat belt to give himself some room. He reached behind him for the cooler that always traveled with them, and fished two bottles of water out of the ice. "It _is_ fiction. The Powers That Be thought that breaking up the Shield was a great way to pop ratings after the dip the week before, and we had to do it. It isn't really Seth's fault, he just got to be the one." He put one of the water bottles in the holder between the seats, the one closest to Dean. The other bottle he opened and eliminated half of it in one gulp. _Nothing like a little beating to make a man thirsty,_ he thought.

"Oh, _**bullshit**__**!**_" Dean exploded. He grabbed the bottle from the holder and unscrewed it by biting down on the cap and twisting the bottle with one hand. The cracking sound of the cap separating filled the car. When the bottle was open, Dean spit the cap out. It bounced on the dashboard a couple times, then slid down to lean against the windshield. He took a gulp of water, swishing it around in his mouth, then rolled down the window and spit it out onto the road and into the night. "Yeah, okay, the Powers That Be might have wanted us to break up, but when we were asked about it, Seth practically jumped out of his seat to volunteer for this. Did you see him? _Did you see him?_" He paused for a moment to slam the bottle back into the cup holder. "Oh, I'll do it," He cooed in that Seth-talks-with-his-nuts-in-a-vice falsetto that on a night past, would have had both Roman and Seth laughing like loons, "I'd like the chance to be a bad guy again."

"It made sense though," Roman pointed out, even thought he knew with the mood Dean was in that this was treading on dangerous grounds. "There was talk earlier about Shield imploding because of you. Or of me breaking up the group because I've got my eye on the championship. But never Seth. No one expected Seth to turn traitor. That's what made it work." Dean opened his mouth to speak and Roman quickly continued, hoping to stop another coprolalia rant. "It came totally out of the blue. Seth's not stupid, he knew that if he did it, it would give them the most bang for the buck. Like it or not, cliche or not, Seth turning traitor was best for business."

"_Fuck_ business!" Dean snarled. "We dominated Evolution Sunday night. _Dominated_ them. The Shield was _never_ stronger, _never_ better. This was the _worst_ time to break it up!" He finished up the bottle of water and crunched it in his hand, the cheap, thin, plastic making crackling, noises. When he had crushed it into a disfigured lump of plastic, he tossed it over his shoulder into the back seat.

"I agree with you on that," Roman said. When Dean was right, he was right. "The smarter thing would have been to keep The Shield together for awhile longer. But, again, the Powers That Be didn't agree."

"Yeah, they sacrificed one of, if not _the_ best faction to ever exist in this whole stupid company, for a cheap ratings pop." Dean scowled, staring straight ahead of him, onto the road. "And Seth motherfucking Rollin's went right along with them. He fell back into the Seth Speak, "'Think about it, nobody expects me to betray Shield, after all, I'm the leader!'" He shook his head. "When the fuck did _he_ become the leader?"

_I will not get sucked into that argument, I will not get sucked into that argument,_ Roman chanted to himself. Who was considered the leader of Shield had been an ongoing debate, mostly between Dean and Seth. Personally, he had always looked at it as a shifting position. If crazy was needed, then Dean was the leader. If brute force and strong silence was needed, it was him, and if it was diplomacy, Seth was in charge. Besides, what did it really matter? When the lights went off and The Shield packed it in for the night, it was supposed to be Seth, Dean, and Roman, three friends forever, three brothers by choice. "I think," he began, slowly and carefully choosing his words, "Seth might have figured The Powers That Be thought of him as the leader because he was the diplomat, he was the one who would do anything to keep us going, even when you and I were supposed to be at each others throats. When we almost broke up that one time, it was Seth who figured out a way to keep us together."

"By letting me smack him." A quick look of satisfaction played across Dean's face for a moment, as he remembered that punch, but it was quickly replaced by a scowl of anger. "I got _one_ punch, he got to beat the _crap_ out of me tonight."

"Again, he had to make it look convincing," Roman said. "Are you really that surprised?" He looked over at Dean, wondering if he should ask about something that had been praying on his mind since RAW had ended. "Dean, seriously here, we knew this was going to happen. We knew it all day. Why are you so shocked? I mean, we discussed it, we _planned_ it, it went down pretty much like we said it would. Why are you acting like this came out of the blue? I mean, I know the audience thought it did, but we knew for hours."

"I don't know!" Dean sputtered. "I-I guess it didn't really sink in until it happened, you know?" He stared out the window, refusing to look at Roman. His gaze fixed on a bright patch of light up ahead. "Gas station," he mumbled, "Let's stop. We need gas and I need to stretch my legs and take a leak."

"Leave one, you mean," Roman said, referring to a joke Dean had made once when the three of them had been traveling together. Dean had been dozing on and off in the back seat, and Roman had been driving, when Seth had spoken up, saying they really had to pull over as soon as possible because he really had to pee.

"Do we have to?" Roman had asked. "It's less than an hour to the arena, can't you hold it?"

"No!" Seth had sputtered, stomping his feet on the floor in frustration. Clearly he'd been telling himself that he needed to wait, but had finally reached the point where that wouldn't work anymore. "Dean talked me into drinking one of those mega giant Mountain Dews at the airport. "Seriously, Roman, my back teeth are floating. We've _got_ to pull over so I can take a leak."

"You could take one of mine," Dean had suddenly blurted out, sitting up and draping his arms across the front seats. "I have one I'm not using."

Roman and Seth had looked at each other and laughed. "Stop it!" Seth ordered, trying to stop himself, "It's cruel and unusual punishment to make a man in my condition laugh."

"Think about it," Dean had leaned forward so his chin was almost resting on the middle console. "We say we take a leak or take a dump, but we don't really take them, we leave them. George Carlin was right. We should say we leave a leak."

Thinking back, Roman knew it hadn't been that funny, but the three of them had been working so much, and had just come off from a horrible red eye flight where none of them got any sleep, which was why Seth had drank the Mountain Dew that was the cause of this whole exchange anyway. He'd needed the caffeine. They had been so punch drunk that Dean's philosophizing about the proper way of expressing the need to empty one's bladder while paying tribute to George Carlin became hysterically funny. Dean never did understand why Seth and Roman had thought it was so amusing, so it became a joke more between Seth and Roman. When they were alone and tired, if any of them mentioned taking a leak, one of the two of them were quick to suggest it should be leave instead. _I'm going to miss that,_ Roman thought. Not the joke, but the dynamics it represented. There were things that Roman shared more with Dean, and things that he shared more with Seth, just as Seth and Dean had things between the two of them that did not include him. Where in some situations, this might cause friction in a group, in the case of the three of them, the fact that they had separate relationships with each other as well as the group dynamics almost seemed to strengthen them. Now he wondered if that would pull them apart, too. _God, I'm getting as maudlin as Dean_.

Dean pulled the car in and up to one of the pumps. "Good, it's a *WaWa," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "I'm gonna go take care of business and grab something to drink. Do you want anything?"

"Apple juice," Roman said, unbuckling his own belt. "The good stuff in the bottle with the brown label. None of that overly sugared, barely seen an apple, crap. If all they have is the crap, get orange juice instead. I'll fill the tank while you're gone."

Dean looked at him with a slightly lopsided grin on his face. "Miss your daughter, eh?"

"Well, yeah, I always miss her," Roman said, puzzled that Dean would mention it. It was pretty much a given.

"Yeah, but you're _really_ missing her now," Dean said, stating it as a fact.

_Just when I think he's too wrapped up in his own world to see anything else, he comes up with something like this._ "What makes you say that?" he asked, refusing to admit Dean was correct.

"Apple juice," Dean said. "When ever you're really missing her, if you can, you'll drink apple juice. And always 'the good stuff.' Your daughter must be crazy about it, especially 'the good stuff.'"

"You spend way too much time trying to figure me out," Roman said, rolling his eyes and pretending much more annoyance than he was really feeling. "Go, take care of things. I want to get to the hotel and have _some_ time to sleep." He opened the door and got out of the car, fishing for his wallet in his back pocket as he walked around to the pump.

*I was reminded by a beta reader that everyone doesn't know what WaWa is, because they aren't everywhere in the world or even the USA. WaWa's are these gas stations that also sell food. Not just prewrapped sandwiches, they make subs to order and often have sides like mac and cheese or real mashed potatoes. They sell fountain drinks, specialty coffee drinks and smoothies, and many other things. They are like a cross between a gas station and a truck stop.


	2. Chapter 2

As he watched Dean stalk across the parking lot, Roman shook his head. Dean was, right, apple juice was a favorite of his daughter's, and 'the good stuff' was the miracle liquid that could be used as a bargaining chip to assure her full cooperation with any number of less than pleasant tasks, from cleaning up her toys to going to the dentist without a fuss. He did like apple juice himself, but not to the same degree. Maybe he did develop a craving every time he found himself really missing her. Maybe, subconsciously he felt that drinking the same drink his daughter Leah did, somehow reenforced the connection he had with her, the connection he'd felt with her before she was even born.

He remembered when his fiance, then girlfriend, told him they were going to be parents. She had been worried. Not terrified, she knew him too well to think he'd be one of those jerky guys who would demand she _do_ something about it, but a little nervous. No matter how attitudes about unmarried folks having babies had become much more accepting, that didn't change the fact that a baby was a life changing event and one they hadn't really discussed before.

They were in bed, having just made love. And like most of the time, it had been wonderful. Roman hadn't been a virgin for a long time before he met her. While it had taken him until his late teens to grow into his good looks, he always had a charm and charisma that drew people to him. When he was old enough to discover the opposite sex could be pretty interesting, the opposite sex was more than happy to meet him half way. Because of this, by the time he met Jessica, he had a fair amount of experience and a bit of a reputation. Not a bad one, but people did talk and most of the talk about his abilities in bed had been pretty favorable. He remembered being at a party once and overhearing an ex of his talking to another woman, after they had a fairly amicable break up. "He's good," she had admitted. "He's real good. He understands what makes a woman tick and he never makes you feel... _rushed_. Unlike a lot of guys, he knows that he's going to get there so he's not really worried about how long it takes."

He had been pretty flattered by this, most people he knew were far less complimentary when describing an exes abilities in the sack. But what he overheard next made him wonder. "Just don't think you'll pin him down," she had continued. "Roman is the big, sexy, animal and he's none too eager to get caught. If you want to go for it, do it. If you connect you'll have a wonderful time while it lasts, but don't think the relationship will end with a ring on your finger."

He couldn't even remember the woman his ex had been talking to, so obviously, she hadn't decided to make a play for him. That didn't bother him, he had plenty of other women eager to get to know him, but the observation about his unwillingness to commit made him wonder. Until he overheard the ex, he never thought about commitment, if he was scared of it or not. He was barely an adult, wasn't that when you were supposed to have fun? Commitment was for when you were older, the thrill of the chase was over, and the idea of settling for one person for all eternity didn't seem so..._boring_. He never minded having a steady girlfriend, but the idea of turning your life, your _entire_ life over to one person was another matter completely. He thought he had plenty of time for that type of relationship when he was older. MUCH older. Like thirty five, for example.

Then he met Jessica. Beautiful, intelligent, and all around awesome, Jessica. She wasn't as outgoing as a lot of the women he dated, she had a reserve to her that said she wasn't going to give herself up quickly. If you wanted to really get to know her, you were going to have to invest some time and effort, but she had a quiet confidence that told you it was worth it. Their relationship had a slow build up, a lot of talking, a lot of texting, a lot of getting to know each other, not just big things, but small ones too. By the time their relationship moved into the physical, he knew loved the smell of freshly cut grass in the spring, even though it played havoc with her hay fever and she knew that while he loved the taste of orange juice, he wasn't fond of eating oranges. By the time they made it to the bedroom, it had felt... different than it usually did. Like he'd spent his previous life racing to get somewhere, and she came along to show him he'd been passing some amazing scenery along the way. Yeah, there had been the first time awkwardness, knowing someone liked the smell of freshly cut grass wasn't a key to figuring out what made her tick in bed, but even with the fumbling, the trial and error of the two of them trying to find that rhythm, there had been a rightness he couldn't deny, a feeling that this had been preordained thousands of years ago, and there was some part of the cosmos sighing in relief that it had finally happened.

More than that, it had _stayed_ good too. Most sexual relationships had different phases. There was the awkward beginning stage, then the playful, "I know I can do or suggest just about anything and we'll at least want to try it," stage. Then came the comfortable stage where each knew so well what the other wanted and it became easy. While that stage was great, it was the lead in to the worst stage, the "this is dull" stage.

They hadn't hit the dull stage by the time she became pregnant. he was starting to think they never would. Sure, not every time was breathless and exciting, not every sexual encounter could be a borderline religious experience. Sometimes it was quick and dirty, sometimes, it was more about comfort and closeness than it was about the physical release, but even in those less than perfect times, there was still an absolute rightness, a feeling that even if the two of them went off and had sex with every other person on the planet, under the best of circumstances, it would never be as good as it was between the two of them in the worst of circumstances.

She hadn't played coy, the day she told him. They were lying in bed, half tangled up in each other and the sheets. Roman was in that between area, where part of his mind was going, _Oh, wow,_ and the other part was thinking, _boy, I'd love some __chili cheese __fries about now. _Jessica's head was resting on his chest, but she pulled away, drawing herself in a sitting position. The sheets shifted away from her, exposing her perfect skin and breasts, which added a third part of his mind, _More__? _He thought about suggesting it, but something about the look on her face, changed his mind. "What's on your mind?" he asked instead.

She moved so she was facing him, tucking her legs under her in a fluid, graceful motion. That was one of the things that amazed him about her, she never stumbled. He was an athlete, he wasn't wrestling then, but he had been playing football and all his life he'd been a very physical person, but there were times in his life, too many to count, where he'd been downright clumsy. Jessica? Never. Even doing something as mundane as opening a can of tuna fish or emptying the trash barrel, her movements were graceful, as if she had choreographed and practiced it for years. "Roman, I have..." only a slight hesitation, but he caught it, "I have to tell you something."

She looked so serious, that he grinned, not to make light of the situation, but to assure her that no matter what was on her mind, he was here for her. "What?" he reached out and put his hand on her leg, rubbing it gently.

She put her hand over his, stopping his stroking of her leg. "I-I don't know how to say this other than to just say it."

"Okay, I'm listening," he said to encouraged her.

"We're going to have a baby." Her face was expressionless, her gaze studying him carefully. Her fingers were wrapped around his, but there was something still about it, as if she was trying not only to hear his reaction, but to feel it.

For a moment his mind went numb as he played the words in his head. They were going to have a baby... a child... and this had her worried for some reason, really worried and he couldn't figure out why. This wasn't startling, at least not in a bad way, this was part of the whole rightness of the situation. Something as beautiful and powerful as the way they connected could not be contained to just the two of them. It was a driving force and a driving force only did two things, destroyed or created. In their case, it had created a miracle, it created life. Yes, he knew there were plenty of people running around in the world who had been created under far less enjoyable circumstances, and in general, no one really knew by looking at them how their coming into the world had affected those around them, but he knew at that second, with all his heart and soul, that the child he and Jessica were going to have was going to be something special. Too much power had gone into her (he wasn't sure if he'd known at that moment if they were going to have a daughter, but something told him he just might have suspected) creation to be anything _but_ special.

"Wow," he'd said, shaking his head. He wanted to say so much, he wanted to explain to her what his brain was figuring out, that this was more than just simple biology, that this was truly a good thing, a great thing, a miracle, but the words wouldn't come. Something had short circuited the path between his mind and his mouth and all he could do was express the marvel in one word. "Wow," he repeated again.

"Wow?" She cocked her head to one side, her long hair falling to her right shoulder.

"Wow," he repeated, his mind allowing his mouth to curve into a smile.

She matched his smile with one of her own, her teeth flashing in the dim light from the bedside lamp. "I'm assuming, from the look on your face, that this isn't such bad news?"

"Nope." While his mind hadn't fully loosened the choke hold between his thoughts and his mouth, it was getting easier. "Not at all."

He saw the tension drain from her body, the worry ease away. She leaned forward, shifting her legs, moving until she was lying next to him and his arms were around her and they were kissing, which lead to another round of love making.

It wasn't until later that he realized she had never said she was pregnant and he instantly knew why without even asking. To say she was pregnant was to imply it was merely a medical condition for which there was more than one option for resolution. In their case, there were no option, they were going to become parents. When they decided the time had come to tell family and friends what was happening, neither of them ever said she was pregnant, it was always, "She is (or, we are) going to have a baby."

He would have married her right away if she'd wanted, heck, he would have done whatever he could to have married her that very day if that would have made her happy, but she didn't want that. In the same, careful way she didn't rush into their relationship, but took the time to feel things out, she refused to rush into marriage. "It's not that I don't love you, I do, Roman," she explained. "But I don't want to dump too much on both of us. We're going to be parents, soon, and that's enough. Let's focus on that and when the time is right, we'll get married."

Somehow, in the five plus years Leah had been on this earth, the time was never right.

It wasn't that they didn't still love each other they had some of the usual bumps that every couple had, but for the most part, there relationship was still very strong. If either of them had worried that having Leah would strain it to the breaking point it was unnecessary. They were one of those rare couples whose child helped bring them closer in many ways. No, it wasn't like the movies, it wasn't always, "Wow, now we have a baby, our lives are complete and we'll live happily ever after!" Leah was a normal baby, she went through her fussy times where it seemed that she was born with only one purpose, to keep her parents from ever getting any sleep ever again. She had gone through a terrible bout of colic where the only thing that soothed her was to be held, so for two straight weeks, one of them was always holding her, sleeping in shifts, doing_ everything_ in shifts. "Honey, I really need to take a shower, can you hold her for ten minutes? Please?" And those times did strain them both to the point of being ready to murder one another over something as simple as forgetting to put the clothes from the washer into the drier, or to run to the store to pick up more diapers. But Leah also was a goal. Without discussing it, because discussion wasn't necessary, they both knew that no matter what life threw at them, the most important thing was raising this little human being. Even if Jessica was being particularly bitchy about something, to the point where Roman wanted to suggest there was a bus leaving town and perhaps she should be under it, he also knew that the best thing for Leah was to have two parents who loved each other. It was enough, at those moments, to get him to take one extra second to remind himself he _did_ love Jessica, even if he was furious at her.

_I thought she was feeling the same, _his mind pondered as he filled the tank. In fact, he'd been sure of it, but early this morning, when they were talking on the phone, he had asked her if maybe they ought to be thinking about getting married.

"Think we should do this before Leah goes to college?" he'd quipped, half in jest. She didn't laugh, she didn't say anything. After a moment of silence on the line, he asked her, "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, everything is fine," was what she had said, but the sigh that finished the sentence indicated she was anything but "fine."

"It doesn't _sound_ that fine," he said. "Is everything okay with Leah?"

"You talked to her twenty minutes ago, didn't she _sound_ okay?" There was a snappish tone in her voice that said she was frustrated.

"Okay." He tried to keep the tone of his voice neutral as possible. "Sorry I asked, I just worry about the two of you."

Somehow, he had managed to say exactly the wrong thing. "Really?" Jessica's voice raised by at least two octaves. "You're really worried about us?"

"Hey, no fair!" He protested. "You know I always worry about both of you. You're my family! What would make you doubt that?"

"Gee, how about the fact that you're never home and when you _are_ home you're spending half your time juggling phone calls or updating your twitter account so the fans know how their favorite superstar is doing. Or you're texting with Dean and Seth about something."

"They're my partners," Roman protested. "My co-workers. We have to keep in touch. And I don't tweet _that_ much."

"There's more to it that that," Jessica disagreed. "It's more than just lip service with the three of you. It's not just a faction that you leave behind when the lights go out, you guys really are like brothers. If you all lived in the same town, you'd probably never leave each others houses until you had to go to work. You're on the road together ninety percent of the time, and the small amount of time you're not, they're still calling you, still demanding more."

"Yeah, we _are_ friends," Roman admitted. "We do have a brotherhood thing going, I'll never deny that, but you and Leah are still the most important people in my life."

"Sure." She gave a snort that managed to reek of sarcasm. "We're _so_ important that if Seth or Dean call, you'll drop everything for them. Roman, you walked out on my cousin's wedding last month because Dean called!"

"Uh, well, it wasn't during the ceremony, just the reception." Even as he said it, Roman realized how weak his defense sounded. He didn't regret that he'd taken the call, Dean had just gotten a call from one of his estranged family members demanding he sent money, and was pretty shaken up. But he wasn't sure if Jessica would have understood. He wasn't too sure he would have understood if he hadn't gotten to know Dean as well as he had. Dean's home life had been absolute crap, and by the time he was in his mid teens he was homeless in all but name. His family had never been supportive, yet now that he had "made it" they crawled out of the woodwork like particularly nasty roaches, on a semi regular basis just to hit him up for money. Not just his mother, but everyone who could possibly claim any type of "family" relationship with him, cousins, second cousins, third cousins, step cousins, you name it. And like most manipulative, mean spirited people, they were masters at guilting him. Fortunately, and with a little (well, okay, actually a lot) of persuasion from Roman and Seth, Dean had finally realized that no matter how much he gave them, it was never enough and it never would be enough. It wouldn't make them any happier in the long run and it wouldn't make them love him. The best it would do was encourage them to keep begging. The more he gave, the more they would take until he was drained dry and thus, useless to them. Dean finally cut them off, but that didn't stop them from trying and doing their best to make him feel like totally useless garbage whenever he refused their demands. Seth and Roman had promised him that any time they called (and his family _always_ managed to find out his cell number, no matter how many times Dean changed it) he could always call one of them when it was over, just to hear that he'd done the right thing by saying no to their fiscal demands.

"It's the business, babe," he finally said, because she was treating him to silence again and he wanted to get her talking. "We have to work so closely together, it spills over. But, you're right, the next time we go to one of those types of functions, I'll keep my phone completely turned off and in my pocket. I won't even check on it until it's completely over, I promise."

His efforts at smoothing things over earn him another derisive snort. "Roman, you've worked with other people before, you've been in tag teams and all types of things where you worked with at least one other person pretty closely, but it's never been like this. The three of you are little peas in a pod, you're the Three Musketeers, you've got a bromance that makes the one between House and Wilson look amateur! You get on TV and say with absolute conviction that you will always have each others backs and it's not just lip service, it's the truth."

Now it was his turn to play silent, because she was right, or at least when they had been talking that morning, he thought she was right. Now? Well, now was another story. _Damn you, Seth. Did you have to be so eager about it? Couldn't you have at least put up a token protest? _

The click of the gas pump shutting off broke him from his thoughts. As he hung the nozzle back in it's cradle, he saw Dean walking out of the store holding two bottles in one hand, his fingers threaded around the necks to hold them. One of the bottles had that familiar brown label, telling Roman that Dean was able to find 'the good stuff.' Dean paused at the trash and recycle container, put the bottles on top of it, and fished in his pockets for something. Roman let out a groan as he watched Dean pull a red and white box out of his pocket. With practiced ease, Dean opened the box, and shook out a cigarette. With equally familiar moves, he drew a lighter from another pocket and lit up his smoke. Roman debated if he should walk over and put a stop to this as Dean took a deep drag and blew the smoke out through his nose.

Spotting himself being glared at, Dean grinned, cigarette clamped between his teeth and waved at Roman. He motioned to the bottles on the top of the trash and recycling container as if to say, "See? I found what you wanted!" and leaned against the wall next to the container.

Roman made his decision and walked over to him. He stood a little closer to him than he normally might have, towering over him and deliberately trying to intimidate him. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"Smoking, Captain Obvious." If Dean was intimidated, he didn't show it. He smirked, taking another deep drag and blowing smoke out his nose. "Want one?" Dean held out the pack. Roman grabbed it. "Hey! give that back!"

"Dean, c'mon," Roman said, debating if he should crush the pack into an unusable lump of tobacco and paper. "You don't want to smoke. You gave it up, you've been doing great with it, don't start up again."

"Quit playing Dad," Dean grumbled, reaching out and grabbing Roman's arm, the one holding the pack. With his other hand, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes and put them into his pocket. "_You're_ not Seth and_I'm _an adult."

"Yeah, and _you're_ old enough to know better," Roman argued. "Dude, you don't want to do this." He knew he was coming across like one of those self righteous jerks who thought they were better than everyone else, but in this case, it was justified. Roman really didn't give a damn what people did to themselves on their own time, but Dean's livelihood depended on being in the best physical shape he could be. Roman didn't care if Dean wanted a few hits nicotine once in awhile, but the smoking was a sure fire way to shorten his career considerably. _God knows there are a million other ways our careers could come to a screeching halt at any second, we don't need to go out of the way to find more. _"Dean, if you need the fix, do what you've been doing and vape it."

"My e-cig is packed in with my stuff and I don't want to dig it out," Dean said, almost petulantly.

"Then why didn't you buy a disposable?" Roman jerked his head in the direction of the store, "They sell them." He wasn't overly fond of vaping either, but it worked in giving Dean a substitute that wasn't actual smoking, but enough like it that in most cases, it worked.

"Because," Dean began, then hesitated. "Because...aw for fuck's sake, I need a cigarette tonight. Not a tube of mist, not some gum or a lousy patch, I need a motherfucking real, tar and nicotine loaded, lung burning, eye watering, cancer causing cigarette. I just want this one, okay? Just let me have this one cigarette without your getting on my ass like some sixth grade health teacher."

Roman sighed. There was a time and place for everything and right now, Dean needed to win this battle. "Does it really help?"

Dean nodded. "More than you'll know."

"All right then, have your smoke if you have to." Roman took his apple juice off of the trash/recycle container. "I'll wait in the car. When you're done, walk back to the car slowly to let the wind blow away the godawful stench." He grinned as he said the last part, to take some of the sting out of the words.

"Yeah, cool." Dean nodded.

As Roman turned to head back, someone came out of the store with a pack of the same brand of cigarettes as Dean was smoking in his hands, smacking the pack against his palm to pack them down. Dean pulled his pack out of his pocket and walked over to the guy. "Here," he said, handing him the pack. "You can have the rest of these, I just wanted one." He shot a look at Roman that said as clearly as words would have, _See? I'm keeping my word._

The man, a guy about their age, accepted the pack and grinned. "Really? Thanks!"

"No problem," Dean said. "Enjoy." He waved his hand in a dismissing gesture, discouraging the stranger from trying to start up a conversation. Roman headed to the car.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: Special thanks to the three who took the time to review. I really appreciate it.**

Part 3

Ten minutes later they were back on the road, Dean having finished his cigarette. "Are you feeling any better about this?" Roman asked, a little hesitantly. Part of him really wanted to just sort things out, for this whole situation to be over, but another part of him knew that Dean needed to talk about it. Usually, it had been Seth who had handled the Really Serious Discussions with Dean, the one who Gave Advice. Roman was more of the back up guy. Even though Seth was a year younger than both of them, he was the mature one, the, for lack of a better term, parent of the group, when necessary. Dean and Roman were the kids who worked hard and played hard. Which wasn't to say Seth didn't work hard, Seth trained a little bit longer and maybe even a little bit harder than the both of them did. But Seth was happy to go to his hotel room when everything was done and get some sleep. Roman and Dean were the ones who would go out and check out the local nightlife. Seth remembered schedules and kept things organized so they knew where they were supposed to be and when they were supposed to be there. Once they were there, Dean and Roman usually rose to the occasion and played their part flawlessly, but in more than one case, they wouldn't have never had the chance to shine if Seth hadn't made sure they got there in the first place.

"No," Dean admitted. "I'm still really pissed off. Part of me wants to choke Seth Motherfucking Rollins until his eyes bulge out of his stupid little head."

"And the other part?"

Dean's voice softened slightly. "The other part wants to look at him and say, 'Why, Seth?_ Why_? How could you take the best thing that ever happened to us and toss it away like it meant nothing?'"

"He really didn't." Roman leaned over in his seat as far as the seat belt would let him and started untying his boots. If Dean was going to insist on driving, he'd take advantage of the situation and take off his footwear. His feet were feeling pretty damp.

"Oh man, and you complained about me smelling like smoke?" Dean groaned, watching as Roman took his boots off. "And yes, he did. Like I said, it was _supposed_ to be fiction, but it doesn't matter. It's real and he loves it. He loves that he's the one to bring this whole thing to a crashing halt. Shield is dead and Seth _killed_ it."

"I wouldn't say that," Roman said, as he removed his socks too, and tucked them into the boots, ignoring Dean's implication that his feet smelled worse than cigarette smoke. "Dean, it just happened. You don't know what Seth is thinking. I mean, it was just a script, in the real world, nothing has changed."

"_Bullshit!_" exploded from Dean's mouth like a gunshot. "_Everything_ has changed and you know it. Seth is thrilled to death to be Triple H's right hand boy. After the show, while the doctor was checking you out, I asked Seth if he was still going to ride with us to the hotel and the stupid, fat neck, slack jawed, little weasel goes, 'Sorry, Dean, but I'm going with Triple H and Stephanie, we have a lot of plans to discuss. I'll catch up with you guys another time.'" He fell back into using that high pitched voice for Seth that he was using earlier. He's happier than I've seen him in months. You watch, soon enough it's going to be like we don't exist." He'll be bad mouthing us on stage in character, he'll be ignoring us off stage because we're not the fortunate son."

"The what?" Roman asked, amused by the choice of words.

"Fortunate son," Dean repeated. "It's from a really old song... Credence Clearwater Revival, I think. I dunno. You'd probably recognize it if you heard it. This guy, Ed, he was this old hippie Seriously, peace, love, granola, and smokin' the Mary Jane type. He was banging my mom and he lived with us for awhile. He had this old guitar, because I think they issue them standard to hippies. But, he knew how to play it. He'd go to the park and play for money. Sometimes he'd take me with him and give me a couple bucks if the take was good. Or, take me out to McDonald's when he was finished. I was probably about five or six, so a Happy Meal was the tits to me. But, yeah, that was one of the songs he knew."

Roman smiled. Dean was rambling, which was a good sign. He rarely rambled when he was pissed, so maybe he was calming down. "What happened with Ed?"

Dean shrugged. "The usual. Either my mom realized he wasn't just going to hand her money for her drug habit, or he got tired of my mother looking at him as nothing but a wallet, or, my old man got out of prison and came home until the next time he got caught. The prison had a revolving door with his name on it. I can't remember, I just know one Saturday Ed and I went to the park, he sang for tips, took me to McDonald's and the next day he was gone." He paused, flipping on the blinker to signal a lane change. "And, I know what you're doing, Reigns, and it won't work. I'm _still_ pissed off at Seth. Nothing is going to change that." He paused from speaking, rolled his right hand into a fist and brought it crashing down on the console between them, causing his and Roman's drink to rise and fall in the cup holders. "He's _still_ a motherfucker."

The chuckle that escaped from Roman's lips was one more of frustration than amusement, one of those, "If I don't laugh, I'll scream" moments. "Dean, you're going to give yourself a brain aneurysm, calm down." He didn't want to risk Dean's ire again, but he really was getting a little carried away with this whole anger at Seth thing. "Look, this is all we know at this point. 1: One of us had to betray the other two and break up The Shield. 2: Seth volunteered. That's it. "

"No," Dean said. "_Three_, Seth then ran off with his new framily, Trips and Steph with a look of joy on his smug, weasel like face. And, have you ever noticed that if you're looking at him in a certain way, Seth's neck looks like a fucking tree trunk? Seriously, for a high flier, he's got one _big_ fucking neck. It looks like someone put a volleyball on a telephone pole."

_I will not laugh, _Roman ordered himself._ Even though I want to, I will not laugh. It will either encourage him, or piss him off even more._ "Still, the point is that it was part of the script. He didn't betray us in real life, he didn't sleep with your girlfriend or piss in your fish tank-"

"-I don't _have_ a girlfriend," Dean interrupted to remind him. "And I gave Bill to the kid who lives in the apartment next door. It was stupid of me to have a pet anyway, even a stupid beta fish. I never would have bought one, but I won the stupid thing at a carnival, so I brought him home and bought a stupid tank for him, because that stupid bowl they had him in looked too small."

"Again, not the point," Roman said. "We don't know what's on Seth's mind. No, we won't be working together as closely as before, but who says we won't get together sometimes when we're not working?"

"It won't be the same," Dean said, his voice dropping in volume. "Even if Seth still gives a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut about us, it won't be the same." He sniffed a hard sniff and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Your foot stink is making my nose run."

"No, it won't," Roman agreed, ignoring the comment about his feet. They didn't stink and they both knew it.

"We won't be hanging together all the time before the show to discuss things. We won't be hanging after the show to compare how we think it went. We sure as hell won't be doing interviews or autograph sessions together, unless the entire locker room is there." Dean continued, giving off his list of Things That Would Now Change. "We won't be meeting up at the airport, we won't be traveling together. No late nights in the rental car together, trying like hell to get to the next town in time to get a few hours of sleep, like we are now. None of that. It's just you and me right now, and soon enough that'll be gone too. They'll start pushing you to be The Next Big Thing, and I'll be feuding with Seth, but the three of us hanging out like we always did? Nope. That is over."

"It happens in this business," Roman pointed out. "You know it, I know it. One day you're working with someone or a couple people and it's like you're joined at the hip. The next day, it's like you have to pretend you never knew them or if you _did_ know them, you can barely tolerate their existence."

"This was different," Dean sputtered. "We were tight. We were brothers, on stage and off stage. You're right, I have had to work with all sorts of people in this business. I've been part of a tag team, part of a group before. And some folks I worked with I thought were awesome and off stage we hung out and it was great. Others I couldn't stand and only hung with outside of work when I had to, for publicity. But this was different..." Dean's voice trailed off for a moment, and when he resumed talking, there was a wistful tone to it. "I've known Seth longer than you. We worked together in ROH. We started with a rivalry, but even though we were supposed to hate each other, we started liking each other. Then we came to the WWE family and we met you, they gave us The Shield idea, and I dunno, everything just clicked. We worked together really well and when we were off stage, we played together really well. I-I've never had that. I've had friends, but never what the three of us had. It was like... it was like..." his voice trailed off and he wiped his nose again.

"A family?" Roman softly suggested.

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "We were a family." He reached up and wiped across his eyes with the back of his hand. "You know my home life was fucked up. Hell, I've said in interviews that I was raised by wolves. I've said all sorts of crazy stuff in promos that's had people going to me, 'is that true?' I usually play them off. 'Maybe it is, maybe it isn't.' You and Seth might be the only ones who know how much of that crap _is_ true. My childhood was fucked. But, I don't run around feeling sorry for myself. People can say that I'm crazy, but I'm doing pretty damned good for a crazy guy. I've done pretty good for a guy who had no real family. No, I wasn't able as a kid to go find some substitute family like Punk did, I don't have that, 'please adopt me, I'm pretty much an orphan,' look he's mastered, but I took care of myself. I managed to get my GED when everyone else figured I was a lost cause and I was sleeping on the streets. I always thought I didn't even _need_ a friggin' family. Then, we started hanging, working, and-and it just worked. It seemed like we always had each others backs, not just the fights, but _really_ had each others backs. Like the two of you convincing me to stop giving my family money and being willing to talk to me whenever they started bugging me. Or, you and Seth convincing me to give up smoking and dealing with it when I act like a little bitch 'cause I miss it. Or, even the times when you guys have made sure I got to the gym, or made that interview, when I just wanted to sleep in. That's not just friendship, that's _really_ looking out for me. That's being a family, or at least what I always thought a family should be."

"I guess," Roman said, trying to think of any friends he had in his life who he would have done as much as he'd done for Seth and Dean. His cousins, yes, but they were family, of course. He'd had lots of friends in his life and while there were many he would have done a whole lot for, he knew he would have done more for Dean and Seth. _I'd put my relationship with my real family in jeopardy,_ he thought, thinking of the conversation with Jessica that morning. _I _have_ put it in jeopardy. _

"I'd take a bullet for you guys," Dean said. "You _and_ Seth. I'd take a goddamned bullet to the chest if I had to. What I _didn't_ know is that one of you would be pulling the trigger."

There was a wistful sadness to his voice that left Roman unable to think of anything to say. He fiddled with the empty apple juice bottle, pealing at the wrapper and dropping the little pieces inside. Part of him felt that Dean was exaggerating things a little, but another part of him could understand. Dean had devoted his life to wrestling, to being on the road. He hadn't taken the time to form much of a personal life outside the ring. He made friends pretty easily, Roman knew that from hanging around with him. They'd walk into a bar full of strangers in some town, and pretty soon, Dean was talking with everyone. But that wasn't making deep bonds. While he had felt a strong connection between the three of them, the great bromance of the century, as Jessica called it, he didn't think he or Seth felt it, or needed it as strongly as Dean did. They had each other, yes, but he and Seth also had a life that had absolutely nothing to do with wrestling. _Did we somehow cause this?_ he wondered. _Did Seth and I sense he needed a family and subconsciously fill the void?__ And if so, did we do him any favors?_

"Ah, screw it, you won't get it, you never will," Dean said, breaking the silence. "You've got your fiance, you've got your daughter. What do you care if the best thing that ever happened to us is gone? You'll just ride to the top of the WWE, because you've got that whole, big, strong, unrealistically good looking, bodybuilder thing going on, lucky prick."

"Hey!" Roman protested. "I'm not _that_ awesome. I have my flaws."

Dean snorted. "Sure you do," he said, the sarcasm dripping from every word. "Be real, when you walk into a room, all straight women and all the gay men drop their panties. Okay, maybe the gay guys don't, because I don't think gay guys wear panties, but if they do, they're dropping them." His voice fell into a high falsetto imitation of a woman, "Ooh, it's _Ro_man Reigns!"

Despite himself, Roman laughed, probably because in some ways, it was true. He always commanded a lot of attention when he walked into a room and most of the time it was favorable. particularly from anyone who was attracted to people of his gender. "Oh, come on," he said.

"Ooh _Ro_man," Dean went on with his imitation, putting his index finger to his lips and licking it, his face taking on a come-hither look. "You can just _Reign_ down on me, big guy!"

"Stop it!" Roman protested, still laughing.

"Oh, _Ro_man, I know a perfect place for you to make it... _rain_." Dean made a quick and crude gesture to his crotch area.

"Stop it!" Roman repeated. his laughter not giving his words much force. Dean had a gift for mimicry, and he was doing a grossly exaggerated conglomeration of a lot of the women they had met while traveling together. Fans, women in bars, waitresses and restaurants they stopped at. Even some of the Divas and most of their friends.

"_Ro_man, I'm having a problem with my vagina," Dean continued, ignoring Roman's words of protest, and instead catering to his laughter. "Your dick isn't in it. Can you help me with that?"

"Okay, Dean, that's enough!" Roman said, his eyes watering with laughter. "C'mon, I'm not _that_ wonderful."

"Oh, bullshit," Dean said, almost cheerfully, enjoying that he was humoring and embarrassing his friend at the same time. "I'll bet when you go to bed at night, your parents come into your room when you're asleep, look down at you, and go, 'Magnificent. We have done well.'"

"I don't live with my folks!" Roman reminded Dean, trying to get his laughter under control but not having the best of luck with it.

"Okay, so they have to do it when watching Raw and Smackdown instead," Dean said. "When they do that close up of you, when you jump over the barricade with your hair all wet and you flip it back? Those little water droplets sparkling around your head like a diamond halo? They say it then. 'I cannot believe we produced that! Magnificent!'"

"I doubt it," Roman said, finally getting his laughter under control. "My mom is probably wishing I'd shaved. She doesn't mind the long hair, but she thinks the facial hair makes me look too 'mean'."

"It does," Dean agreed, "It's _supposed_ to."

"I know, but she's a mom. And my dad is probably thinking to himself, 'I hope he doesn't botch tonight, and disgrace the family.'"

"Nah, your dad knows, you're so magnificently awesome that even when you botch, you can still pull it off."

"Yeah," Roman said, rolling his eyes. "Remember Dublin? That magnificently _awesome _leap in the ring I took where I landed square on my ass? My dad caught that on You Tube. Joked about it for weeks. Hell, he _still _teases me about it, sometimes. He also caught Punk's imitation of it, also on You Tube, which did not make it any better."

Dean laughed, remembering the botch. "Well, that was pretty funny."

"For everyone but me, maybe."

"Seth and I didn't know what to do," Dean said, cheerfully. "We weren't sure if we should rush over to help you, if that would embarrass you, or if we should just ignore it, pretend we didn't see it. And, I admit, we joke about it a lot, whenever you aren't around. We've gotten to the point where we can duplicate that fall, perfectly."

"Gee, I'm so flattered," Roman said, pretending more indignation than he felt. In truth, he knew he ought to be grateful they didn't do their imitations right in front of him. Everyone else in the locker room had for quite awhile after it happened.

"C'mon Roman, it was classic. Roman Bad-ass, Motherfucking Reigns falling flat on his big old ass." Dean laughed, then stopped abruptly. "Fuck it," he said, his tone suddenly sharp. "Won't be making that joke anymore."

"Maybe you will again," Roman suggested. "Maybe even with Seth, or if not Seth, with someone else. I know this is going to change things, but I don't think it's going to be as bad as you think. Seth will still be our friend. Who knows? Maybe the Powers That Be will see what we all know, that breaking up the Shield was a stupid idea."

"And put us back together?" Dean snorted. "Not gonna happen. Seth didn't just leave, he trashed me and invited Randy to trash you. How are they going to script that? 'Oops, sorry guy, low blood sugar, should've had a Snickers.' Nah, there is no way you or I can forgive him for years."

"Maybe they'll give Shield a new member?" Roman suggested, even though he personally doubted that would happen.

"Nope," Dean shook his head. "They won't do it. You have to go on and be the next John Cena, I have to be a crazy SOB who lives to make Seth's life a living Hell. A task, I may add, that has a certain appeal to it. But it's never going to be like it was. Never."

"Again, I'm going to ask you, why are you so shocked? You had all day to get adjusted to it. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn you never got a script and you didn't know it was going to happen."

"I-I," Dean sputtered, then paused, gathering up his thoughts, "you're going to think I'm lame."

"Try me," Roman suggested.

"I-I guess there was a part of me that thought Seth would break script." Dean swallowed and fixed his gaze steadily on the road, refusing to even glance in Roman's direction. "That he'd be all set to clock you with that chair and go after me, but at the last moment, change his mind and go after Trips and Orton. And even though the Powers That Be would be pissed off, they couldn't do anything about it, because it was live, they'd have to play it through. Yeah, when it was over, they'd yell at Seth and he'd say, 'I know, but I just couldn't do it.' I _told_ you it was lame. Lame and _stupid_."

"I didn't say that," Roman said, "Don't put words in my mouth. I don't think it's stupid. Maybe a little part of me was hoping the same thing. But c'mon, dude, you have to admit that would never happen. That could get Seth into _way_ too much trouble.

"I know, I know," Dean said. "That's why I didn't say anything about it. Because on the surface, I knew it was bullshit, knew so well that I refused to even recognize I was _having_ the stupid idea. But deep down, there was a part of me that trusted the brotherhood more than the script. That's what makes me lame. _Super_ lame."

"Nah, I don't think you're lame. I think you just cared a lot about the three of us, of what The Shield represented, both in and out of the ring."

Roman meant his words to be comforting, but Dean didn't find them so. "No, you don't get it. You _can't_ get it."

"I can get it, I _do_ get it," Roman shot back, starting to feel a little annoyed. Dean had spent most of the night implying, and now pretty much saying he was the only one of the three who was affected by this and it was getting a little wearing.

"No." Dean's voice was flat. "You _can't_ get it, because you have something outside of the ring. You _have_ a family. Hell, you have _two_ families! You have the family you were born with, who you're still close with. Cousins, brother, sisters, mother, father, all of that. _And _you have the family you've formed as an adult with your _perfect_ kid and your _perfect_ fiance."

"That doesn't mean I don't understand," Roman protested, remembering his earlier conversation with Jessica. Dean wanted to be the champion of the Emotional Pain Olympics tonight? Fine, but he wasn't going to make Roman feel like he was too lucky for words. Roman had been in that ring, too. Roman had taken his share of abuse too, tonight. Roman had probably lost as much of his friendship with Seth as Dean had. And, Roman may have lost a whole lot more today that had nothing to do with the Shield. He wasn't sure if he could take losing everything so quickly and that damned well might be happening. He understood and wanted to help Dean, but for...for _fucks sak_e, Dean didn't have to act like everything for Roman was a big bowl of happy. "Things aren't _that_ great on the home front."

Dean didn't hear the annoyance building in Roman's voice, he was too busy focusing on his own pain. "Ooh, not going great. What's going on? Your daughter lose a crayon so she couldn't get that 'A+' in arts and crafts?"

"Shutup_,_ Ambrose," Roman tried to keep his voice calm, but it ended coming out as a low growl. The whole atmosphere of the car had changed completely. before it seemed filled with a dark, resignation but now there was the crackle of energy that came from high emotion. They were both getting pissed off and they didn't know how to stop it.

"Oh, I know," Dean continued, either not hearing the growl in Roman's voice, or deciding that he didn't care if it was there. "Are you sad because Jessica might not be able to call you tomorrow?"

"Shut. _Up_."

Whether he was consciously aware of it or not, Dean heard the extra heat in Roman's voice at the mention of his fiance, and unable to stop himself, he zeroed right in on it. "Aw, does Jessica have to go to work early so she can't call you? Is poor Romy Reigns gonna have to go a whole day without having her coo into your ear how much she wuves you? Is that the problem? Poor little Romy needs his girlfriend to make him feel good about himself."

"Last warning, Ambrose," Roman's nostrils were flaring and he spoke through almost gritted teeth, biting off each word, "Shut. The. Hell. _**Up**_."

"Aw, what are you going to do, Romy?" Dean taunted. "Slap me like a little bitch? Oh, I got it, run to Seth! 'Seeeeethy!" his voice dropped into a higher pitched, petulant version of Roman's. While Roman rarely sounded whiny, anyone hearing Dean's impression would have known immediately who he was mimicking. "Deany's _picking_ on me. Make him _stop!" _His imitation stopped and his voice went back to an angry growl. "Oh, yeah, you can't do that now, because Seth is off sucking Trip's dick. So, whatcha gonna _do_ about it?"

"Pull the fucking car over and you'll see what I do," Roman snapped, feeling his temper rise even higher as his voice got lower. There was just enough truth to Dean's remark about running to Seth that was fueling his anger to the breaking point and beyond. There were times, not many, when he and Dean were at odds and Roman _had_ gone to Seth for advice about it. At the time, he thought he was doing the smart thing. Seth had known Dean longer, so Roman figured he might have insight into how to make the situation better. Or, as Dean was implying, deep down, was he running to tattle?

Dean laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound at all. "Ooh, Romy's pissed!" They were on a main road, but it was late at night and they were between cities, and it was deserted. Dean flicked on the right turn signal and pulled over onto the shoulder. He put the car in park, undid his seat belt and turned to look at Roman. "We're pulled over, _bro_, whatcha gonna do, now?"

It was known that of the three of them, Dean was the best "real" fighter. All three of them were strong, fit, men, but Dean's terrible childhood had caused him to have to learn street fighting for survival. Roman, with his easy going ways rarely got into physical fights when he was younger and when he had, they weren't very serious, more of a normal boyhood type of thing. He loved to wrestle, and he'd hurt quite a few people in the ring, but the hurting was always unintentional. Truth be told, professional wrestling was more about injuring yourself to make it look like you hurt someone else. If he thought about it, Roman could probably count on both hands how many times he had really wanted to fight someone for the sole purpose of hurting them. And it had probably been five years since he last wanted to. That streak was broken, right now. He had already unbuckled his seat belt as Dean was stopping the car. Rather than answer him, he opened the door, got out of the car, and walked around to the driver's side. The rough pavement of the road shoulder and the loose gravel cut into his bare feet, but he didn't care. He flung open the door and dragged Dean out of the car. Dean's protest was more of a show than an actual effort. The moment both of his feet were on the ground, he twisted out of Roman's grip and leaped on to him, knocking him onto the pavement.

Roman was wearing a thin t-shirt, and as he crashed into the stone strewn pavement, his back screamed as if it had been completely uncovered, reminding him of the welts and scrapes he'd received earlier. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. He could take pain, he'd had bones pulled right out of their sockets. He'd been tackled by multiple guys more times than he could count when he played football and even in the wrestling ring, but these welts were like paper cuts. They stung, they burned, they made him feel like his nerves were on fire. What they, and the pain they caused _didn't_ manage to do was stop him. He grabbed onto Dean's shoulders and pushed at him, rolling so he was on top of him. He grabbed the collar of Dean's shirt with one hand and raised his fist, ready to smash it into Dean's face. "Got anything else to say, asshole?"

Dean glared up at him. For a split second, Roman thought he was going to say something, but instead he sucked in a huge breath, and spat in his face. The action startled Roman to the point where he reared up, jumping back off of Dean, feeling the man's spittle running down his cheek.

Dean took advantage of the situation by rolling to his feet and jumped on top of Roman, knocking him back to the ground, where Roman's back screamed at him again.

The two men were wrestling. Not the wrestling they did to pay bills, not the wrestling Highs Schools and Colleges taught, this was the wrestling of two angry children who had lost control. They rolled around in the break down lane, eventually rolling onto the shoulder and into the grass. They kept at it, one punching and the other defending, then switching places. Every time one of them managed to get to his feet, the other leaped and knocked them back down. Dean got one good swing on his nose and Roman felt something give and the warm trickle of blood. Roman returned the favor by hitting Dean in the mouth so his lower lip scraped along his teeth and cut it open. _Wow, by the time this is done, we're going to look even worse than we did when Raw ended! _Roman found himself thinking.

But, they were tired and it was late. Two nights ago, they had a grueling match that had taken so much out of them. Tonight they had both been stomped on and abused as part of the show. While they started this fight with the intention of hurting each other badly, they just didn't have the energy. _We should be sleeping,_ Roman thought.

Dean rolled over so he was on top of Roman and sat up, his knees digging into Roman's sides. glaring down at him."You wanna fuck with me?" he shouted, gulping at air as he tried to catch his breath, his fist raised high in the air as if preparing to smash it again into Roman's face, possibly breaking his nose rather than just bruising it as he'd done earlier.

"I didn't start it, asshole!" Roman screamed back, his own chest heaving. "You _had _to bring up Leah and Jessica. You just_ had_ to do it. Damn it, I was trying to_ help_ you, trying to talk to you so you could get it out of your system, but nooo, not Dean _Fucking_ Ambrose. Dean _Fucking_ Ambrose has to keep digging. Dean _Fucking_ Ambrose is hurting, so he's going to find a way to make sure everyone else is hurting too, even the one damned person in this world who might actually want to _help_ his sorry ass!" He glared at Dean, sure Dean was going to bring that fist down into his face again and not caring.

"Oh yeah? Well, by _my_ estimation, you now owe your swear jar six bucks when you get home," Dean said, lowering his hand and rolling off of Roman. He sat in the grass, wrapping his legs around his knees, looking like a lost, unhappy, child.

Roman stared, unable to comprehend what was happening for almost a minute, then sat up, "Really?" He stared at Dean. "Really? We were trying to seriously hurt each other and you're worried about how much I owe to the swear jar? _Seriously?_"

Dean looked at him, his head resting on his knees. In the dim light that reflected off the headlights, Dean looked even younger than he usually did. "I know you've been really trying not to swear for your daughter," he said. "Until tonight, you were doing pretty good. At least with the really bad ones."

Roman shook his head. "You are _unbelievable!_" he exclaimed, glad they weren't fighting, but not quite ready to let the anger go. "_Totally_ unbelievable."

"No," Dean disagreed. "I'm a dick. I-" His voice stopped abruptly and he drew in a huge breath. "I was trying to piss you off."

"Guess what?" Roman said, glaring at him. "It worked."

"I know," Dean agreed. "I-I _wanted_ you to hurt. I'm angry and I'm upset and I wanted everyone around me to feel the same way. Unfortunately, the only person around me was you. I'm sorry. I just- I just-" his voice cracked and he paused to gather his thoughts. "I was jealous," he finally admitted, when he was able to speak. "I feel like I lost my family tonight, and I was angry and jealous because you didn't. _You_ still have a family."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," Roman blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Oh, don't be-" Dean started to say, then stopped as the word's Roman had said really sunk in. "_Wha__t__?_"

"You heard me, "Roman said, half embarrassed, half angry at himself for talking like this. His problems with Jessica were his business. He didn't want to be the type of guy who ran to his friends whenever he and Jessica had a disagreement. Normally he wasn't that type of guy, but this wasn't a usual disagreement.

"Yeah, I _heard_ you," Dean agreed, "But I'm not sure I _understood_ you. Did something happen?"

Roman plucked a piece of grass from the ground and started tearing it to bits, just to give his hands something to do. "We...had a disagreement this morning. A really huge disagreement. Okay, to be honest, it was a fight."

"About what?" Dean's demeanor had changed completely. Instead of being an angry, hurt, child, he was now the shocked, concerned, friend. He had met Jessica and Leah before. He had even stayed with them a few times when they had been in the area doing shows. He had told Roman a million times that from what he could see, their relationship was perfect, so hearing this was actually shocking to him.

"Nothing and everything," Roman said with a sigh, picking another blade of grass to destroy. "She's tired, I think. Tired of feeling like a single parent, even though technically, we live together, or at least it says that on paper. I'm on the road so much that she's left trying to be Mom and Dad to Leah. And, when I _do_ come home, she accused me of caring more about you and Seth than her and Leah."

"She wasn't serious," Dean said, with absolute conviction in his voice. "Not about the last part. She knows you'd walk on broken glass for them."

"I thought she knew that too," Roman said. "But now, I wonder." His mind was replaying the phone call this morning, how he had first thought everything was fine, then realized how annoyed she was. How things had gone from bad to worse as every word that came out of his mouth seemed to be the wrong thing to say, that instead of defending himself, it seemed instead that he was giving her ammunition.

"Look, brass tacks here," Dean said. "Did she say she was leaving you?"

"No, not exactly." He couldn't remember the exact words but he knew she had used the phrase, _'I don't know what to do anymore,'_ more than once, along with, _'Something has to give, I can't keep doing this.'_ "But I have a bad feeling an ultimatum might be coming, and I'll be dipped in shit if I know what to do."

"You're sure making up for lost time with the swearing," Dean pointed out. He rose to his feet, stumbling a little bit. "Wait a second, I'll be right back." He half walked, half limped towards the car.

When he returned a minute or two later, he had two bottles of water, one which he handed to Roman. He sat down next to him, closer than before, and pulled his e-cig out of his pocket. "Shoot, what a day," he commented, taking a drag off the e-cig. The end glowed blue in the night as the misty, smoke imitating vapor escaped from Dean's mouth, only to disappear almost instantly.

"Understatement of the year," Roman remarked bitterly. Now that it was out in the open, the calm he had forced around himself all day was gone. It was as if he had built up a wall of denial, telling himself that things hadn't been _that _bad, that the conversation hadn't gone _that_ poorly, that it was all going to be just fine, a wall that was blown to bits by admitting the fight to Dean. He found himself wanting to scream, to pound the ground until his fists were bloody. He settled for opening the bottle of water and taking a long drink. "Whoever said that when it rains it pours was right. And, while I don't like to admit it, you were more right than I wanted to believe.

"Me?" Dean said in genuine surprise. "About what?"

"Seth." Roman sighed. "I wanted to pretend this was just a minor bump, that nothing would change outside the ring, but you're right, it will. Yeah, sure, we might pretend for awhile that it's all the same, but it will change, it has to. It's going to change even more for me. You and Seth will have to work together to plan your attacks on each other. I'm going to be focusing my efforts on Orton. Yeah, they'll probably have the two of us work together for a bit, but soon enough, I'll be doing my thing, while you and Seth will be playing kill or be killed with each other. It _won't_ be the same. We _won't_ travel together, we _won't_ do interviews together. We _won't_ do promos or end fights where we all put our arms and fists out in some pseudo dick waving contest."

Dean stared at him for a moment, then gave a snort of laughter. "_Pseudo dick waving?_ Where you hear that?"

Roman shrugged, "Something I was told once by a non-fan. Some guy who recognized me and started talking to me at a bar. I think I'd even gone there with you, but you were chatting up the hot bartender. His boyfriend was into wrestling and he wasn't, but he'd watch it with him because it was his thing, and he was crazy about him. I also think his friend had fantasies about being in a Shield sandwich and I think this guy was a little bitter about that. But, he said that our putting our arms out was just a more socially acceptable way of dick waving. I think the guy was an idiot, but the idea stuck in my head."

"Well, I want you to know, Roman," Dean said his voice solemn. "My arm is _much_ longer than yours."

While Roman didn't break out laughing, he did give an amused snort. "If it is, it's not _that_ much longer, and mine is _much_ thicker."

"Maybe," Dean said and added, "But Seth's arm is _much_ smaller and _much_ thinner than both of ours. When we'd three put our arms out, his looked like a toothpick between two redwoods."

Although he wasn't sure he even wanted to be amused, Roman couldn't help but laugh. _Don't change, Dean_, he thought. _Stay just the way you are._


	4. Chapter 4

They sat there for awhile by the side of the road, sipping water and not saying anything. The had moved out of the beam from the headlights, so the only light illuminating where they sat was the blue light from the end of Dean's e-cig as he drew on it. Roman found his eyes drawn to the blue light and was glad that the night was so dark, Dean probably couldn't tell Roman was constantly glancing in his direction.

"So," Dean finally said, breaking the silence. "What are you going to do?"

"Get to the hotel and hopefully get some sleep," Roman said. "I'm just waiting for you."

"Uh-uh," Dean shook his head. "You know what I mean. About Jessica."

"I don't know," Roman admitted. "I mean, she's got a point. She is stuck being a single parent for all intents and purposes. And she doesn't even have the benefit of finding a babysitter and going off to find someone for the night. Not that she wants to do that, I don't think she does, hookups are totally not her thing, but face it; she's involved, but most nights she sleeps alone."

"You do too," Dean reminded him.

"Not always. Sometimes you or Seth stay in my room. Sometimes all three of us shared a room," Roman said, deliberately trying to keep things light, even though the subject was dark. "I mean, we're not having an affair, so I'm not getting any, but at least I've often fallen asleep to the sounds of your snoring and Seth's farting."

"Doesn't count," Dean said. "And we haven't really shared rooms very often since they started paying us more like the superstars we are and you've stopped being so cheap."

Roman grinned, even thought he knew Dean couldn't see it. "Had to save for Leah's college education. She might want to go to Harvard some day." When the three of them had first started working together, the WWE had given them a one year contract, that while better than the ones in developmental, had been far from as lucrative as the one they had signed recently. It also didn't cover as much of the travel expenses as their current contract did and the travel expenses went up significantly going from developmental to the big time. Both Roman and Jessica had agreed that saving for the future, both for themselves and for Leah was a top priority. They both knew Roman's career could end in an instant in a way that would make his working any job for quite awhile, impossible. And, they were equally as determined to make sure Leah would be able to go to any college she wanted. Roman had done everything in his power to save money, staying at cheaper hotels, doing his best to get bargains on flights and rental cars, picking up peanut butter and bread to eat in the hotel instead of eating out. When Dean and Seth realized what was going on, they took it as an "All for one and one for all" thing and helped. They insisted on paying for their share of everything and when they could get away with it, they covered Roman too. They were willing to stay three in a room at the Red Roof Inn, to cram their long legs into cheap, subcompact rental cars. If he and Dean went out to the bars, Dean would buy the first round. "Don't worry, I got this." By the time the second round was needed, 99 times out of a hundred, Dean would have met the wrestling fans who were more than willing to buy them all the drinks they wanted. If no wrestling fans could be found, he would say he was going to the bathroom and stop at the bar and buy the next round. Roman would forever be grateful for that. At a time when he was afraid that the college fund would stop growing and possibly even be wiped out, it had grown quite nicely. No, Leah wasn't at the "If I was accepted, I could go to Princeton this afternoon, " level, but a highly rated state university was a viable option. The money needed for Ivy league wasn't a pipe dream anymore, if things continued, by the time she was old enough to need it, they'd have it for her.

"Yeah, some day when Leah is a famous brain surgeon, she can give me my first lobotomy," Dean joked. "I'll probably need one by then." Before Roman could respond, he continued, "Do you think it's really that bad? I mean, do you think when you go home, you're going to find the locks changed and your stuff on the lawn?"

"No, she's not going to do that, "Roman said, unable to resist a chuckle at the thought. It wasn't Jessica's style. "She'd never keep me from Leah, she knows how close we are. Even if-" he paused and swallowed hard, "-even if the worst happened, she wouldn't kick me out. Even if she decided she hated me, she would make sure we did everything the best way we could to make it as easy as possible for Leah."

"Do you think she hates you?"

"No." Roman could answer that easily and honestly. "She doesn't hate me, if she hates anything, it's the situation we're in. The fact that I have a job that expects me to work 300 days a year, if not more. That the more I make it in this business, the less she sees me. This isn't like a desk job Dean, and you know it. There's none of this, 'sorry guys, we have to work hard the next few months to get this project out, then you can have some time off.' Every day is the rush project."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. Personally, he liked that the job kept him busy, but then again, he didn't have a girlfriend and a daughter who was growing up quickly. "So, I guess the question is, can you give it up? Throw away everything in order to be a stay home husband and daddy?"

That was the heart of the matter. He had tried to do the nine to five thing and it had almost killed him. It wasn't that he _couldn't_ do it, he was a smart guy and he had done well at the job. It was just that every time he walked into the office, he felt like a part of his soul was dying and if he'd stuck it out for ten years, he wouldn't even _have_ a soul anymore. He loved his daughter, he loved Jessica, but he wasn't cut out to be a nine to fiver. When he'd been working that normal job, a coworker, who was pretty good at drawing, drew a picture of him at his desk, with a huge ball and chain around his ankle. Roman had laughed when his friend handed it to him and made light of it, but as soon as he could, he'd hidden the picture because it was too accurate of how he felt. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I _hate_ sitting at a desk."

"You don't have to sit at a desk to work a regular job," Dean pointed out. "You could learn construction or something. Start a landscaping business. With your looks, you'd get a lot of customers."

"Uh, yeah," Roman said, laughing. "Why, yes, I was a member of one of the hottest factions in the WWE, but really, Ma'am I just want to trim your hedges. What's that? No! I mean literally trim your hedges... the ones out here... in your _yard_."

Dean laughed with him. "Okay, that's kinda dumb, but maybe you could find something more suited. I mean, you could wrestle in the independents on weekends, if you had to, just for the fix."

"Yeah, I could," Roman said, his voice trailing off.

"You just don't want to," Dean finished up.

"Not really," he admitted. "I like this. Yeah, okay, the schedule sucks, the waking up in pain every single morning sucks, the road can suck, so on and so forth, but... I still love it. It's like when they play that intro music and I'm heading down those stairs, part of me that was dormant wakes up and I feel completely, 100% alive."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Dean agreed. I don't even mind the audience getting a little grabby. I mean, I don't like it when they try to touch my junk, slap my ass, or stroke my hair, but the pats on the shoulder and the hand slaps? That's pretty cool."

"Yeah, it is," Roman agreed and then sighed. "Why can't I clone myself so I can be in two places at once?"

"Because the world couldn't handle two Roman Reigns," Dean said quickly. "That much magnificence would completely upset the balance of things. Fire would reign from the sky, pun intended, dogs would sleep with cats, nights would be light and days would be dark, and Seth Motherfucking Rollins would wake up to discover his arm had grown twelve inches longer and five inches thicker."

They both laughed together at this, _I will miss this so much,_ Roman thought. _As we drift into our own thing, I will miss this. These times when Dean just will not shut up with the jokes._ He got to his feet slowly. "C'mon," he said, offering Dean his hand, "We can't sit out here all night. I need at least a few hours of sleep."

Dean took his hand and allowed Roman to help him to his feet. "Yeah, you're right." The two of them made their way to the car and got in. As Dean moved the car back to the road, he leaned over and with his right hand, patted Roman on his left shoulder. "Don't worry. You and Jessie will work it out, I just have that feeling. And if it helps, tell her I won't call you on your off time anymore."

"Dean, don't say that," Roman protested. "If you need me, we're friends. I promised that a long time ago."

"I know you did, and I appreciate it more than you'll ever know," Dean said. "But I've been thinking, if I'm going to look at The Shield as my family, then. well, face it, I was the kid. Seth was the responsible dad, you were the older, adult brother. I was the kid. And maybe it's time for the kid to grow up." As Roman opened his mouth to speak, Dean held up his hand to stop him. "Now, I'm not saying if real trouble hits I won't call you, like if I get hit by a bus and I'm in the hospital, or if I get too drunk and end up proposing to someone because they bought me a cheeseburger and I need someone to help me escape. But some of the other stuff? Like calling you just because my dumb ass blood family wants to try to get me to fund their meth lab or whatever they do with money when they get it, I'll handle that myself."

"You've _been_ handling it yourself," Roman reminded him. "Unless you've been lying, you haven't given any of your family any money in over a year."

"Yeah, but every time they called, after I said no, I called you or Seth the second I hung up," Dean reminded him. "Every single time. And I did it because my first reaction was to call them back and tell them I'd changed my mind. Part of me still thinks I can buy their love, stupid as that sounds. But I can't keep doing that. I have to learn to tell them no, and stick by it. I have to stop expecting you or Seth or anyone else to convince me I'm right, I have to _know_ I'm right. And not just that either, but the other stuff. The times I've called you because I've been bored or lonely and just wanted to connect. I'm an adult, I shouldn't depend on you so much."

"We're friends," Roman reminded him. "Friends are supposed to be there for each other."

"Yeah, and friends should also understand when it's time to let their friend be with his fiance and daughter." Dean kept his eyes on the road, not looking at Roman.

"Look, we aren't going to be working together as much," Roman reminded him, as if he really needed to be reminding. "I don't want to lose your friendship. Seriously, I don't."

"You won't," Dean said, his voice strong. "Seth Motherfucking Rollins can walk away, but we can't. Seth is the lousy parent, we're the sibs that have to keep it together. We'll stay friends."

"I'm not much of a friend if you can't call me unless it's a life and death emergency," Roman pointed out. "I _do_ like talking to you, even when you're being a whiny little bitch."

Dean grinned, his face taking on an eerie greenish glow from the gauge lights in the dashboard. "Okay, tell you what, if I want to talk to you, I'll text you first, but-"

"You text me first now, unless it's an emergency," Roman interrupted to say.

"Let me finish!" Dean protested, "I'll text you, but you have to promise that unless I say it's a life and death emergency, you won't respond unless you're not busy. If you're somewhere with Jessica, or having a tea party with your daughter, or anything that's a family moment, you'll ignore it. I won't be hurt. If you can, just text me back, 'busy.' If that's too long, just text back 'BZ.' But even if you don't text back, I'll give it a few minutes and figure it out. What do you think of that?"

Roman smiled, shaking his head. He wasn't sure if this would be any help or not to what was going on with him and Jessica, but he also knew Dean meant well and it certainly wouldn't hurt. "I think my baby brother is growing up," he said, in a mock sappy voice with a very exaggerated, very fake, and over the top redneck accent. "If the Grippe hadn't taken Mama awl dem years ago, she'd be so proud of yew!" He reached out and tousled Dean's hair.

Dean ducked and pushed Roman's hand away. "I'm not_ that _grown up," he joked back. "You'll always be my older brother."

"Yeah, by a whole seven months!" Roman pointed out.

"Yeah, but they were a long seven months," Dean grinned. "And by my estimate, I was two months premature and our mom got knocked up by the doctor, ten seconds after he delivered you. We've got a few miles 'till we get to the hotel, entertain me, big brother, so I don't fall asleep."

"Entertain you?" Roman snorted, "And how should I do that?"

"Tell me a story," Dean suggested.

"A story?" He stared at Dean, not sure if he was kidding or not. Roman had told lots of stories to Leah, her favorite being the ongoing saga of a Princess named (as it just so happened) Leah, who went on all sorts of adventures, kicking butt and saving the day, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what Dean had in mind. "Okay," he said, slowly. "Once upon a time, there was this jerk named Seth who had really small, skinny arms."

They were both still laughing by the time they reached the hotel. It was the hysterical laughter of two people who were tired and emotionally strung out, but there were a lot worse things than being punch drunk hysterical and the they both knew it.

Author's Note: One more part to go. Thank you again to the people who've taken the time to review this for me. For those of you who are guests to the site? Your input is just as appreciated, I just can't respond to your reviews because they only allow you to do that with registered site members. But your reviews are just as appreciated. Thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

Epilogue

Roman had been positive that when he finally got to his hotel room, he'd fall on the bed and pass out, but that wasn't the case. He had gone past the point of exhaustion, into that state where he was too tired to fall asleep. And, thanks to the roll by the highway he and Dean had taken tonight, after the kendo stick and folding chair surprise, his back was adding to the exhaustion by deciding to really, _really_ hurt.

The doctor had given him two fairly strong painkillers, and he debated if he should take one of them, but decided not to, afraid they would make him too groggy the next day. While he almost never suffered from a hangover when he drank, strong painkillers could leave him in a fog for hours after the actual painkilling effects had worn off. So, instead he stripped down to just his boxers to give his back a break and took two regular, OTC Motrin. _Good thing I don't sleep on my back, _he thought as he sat down on the bed.

He grabbed his cell phone off the night stand, noting that he hadn't turned it on after the show, like he usually did. I guess _I was more upset__than I wanted to admit to myself,_ he thought as he turned it back on and started scrolling through his texts.

There was one text from Leah. She didn't have her own cell phone, but Jessica always let her use her phone when he was on the road and helped her compose a message for him every night before she went to bed. She was learning to read and write, but hadn't quite mastered it yet. Her messages were usually short and sweet, and tonight's was no exception:

**Good night, Daddy, I love you- Leah.**

He smiled. He had left an early wake up call with the desk so he could Skype with her in the morning before school, as he usually did (although, he had the feeling he'd end up going to bed again when they were done) but she loved it when Jessica told her "You have a message from Daddy!" He type out his text and hit send:

**Good morning, Leah-Belle. I love you and I'll talk to you soon-Daddy.**

As he continued scrolling, he was surprised to see a message from Seth. After Dean had told him about Seth having plans with Triple H, Roman had been convinced he wouldn't hear anything from Seth until he saw him at the next show. He opened the message and read it:

**U mad Bro?**

Even though part of him wanted to be pissed off at Seth, Roman burst out laughing, unable to stop himself. _Perfect,_ he thought, _Too perfect. _When he opened the message, he'd told himself that he wouldn't answer tonight, but upon seeing it, he knew he had to respond:

_**Trust is dead to me now.**_

He hit send and went back to checking his messages. Seth had sent his message over an hour ago, Roman was sure that he'd gone to sleep and wouldn't see his response until morning, so he was surprised when Seth texted back almost immediately. _Has he been sitting, waiting to see if I'd respond?_ he wondered as he opened the message.

**You should tweet that. It's perfect. **

_**Thanks, maybe I will.**_

He waited for a couple minutes, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels, looking for something boring and stupid that would help him unwind. When Seth didn't respond, he went back to looking through his messages. It seemed as if every friend who had his cell phone number had texted tonight, wanting to know what had happened on Raw. _Like they all forgot it was scripted,_ Roman though, faintly amused. He briefly debated if he should mess with some of them, leave a message along the lines of, "I don't know! Everything was great and then Seth, he betrayed us!" it seemed funny now, but he wasn't sure if it was really funny, or only seemed that way because he was so exhausted.

To his surprise, his phone buzzed with another text from Seth:

**How's Dean?**

Roman was tempted to text that if Seth was worried, he could text Dean himself and find out from the man himself, but he was too exhausted to risk an argument. He thought for a moment, then typed out his message and hit send:

_**He's worried.**_

The response was fast:

**?**

_So, he's going to make me spell it out for him,_ Roman thought, a little annoyed. Well, he could play that game:

_**He thinks the friendship is all but over. Since we're all going to be pushed in different directions, we'll end up drifting apart.**_

**Well, we are going to have different schedules, especially for the promotional stuff. I can't see them having us do interviews together.**

Roman realized he was getting annoyed. While he was tempted to stop responding to Seth, let the man think he had fallen asleep, he couldn't resist texting back:

_**So, are you saying he's right?**_

**In a way, yes.**

Roman frowned and typed back quickly:

_**Really? A scripted fight means the friendship the three of us had is over? Wow, and people say wrestling is fake! **_

As he hit send, he was convinced Seth would not respond, he'd be too pissed. And Roman wasn't sure if he was secretly hoping this was so. He wasn't as upset with Seth as Dean had been, but it was getting on his nerves that Seth didn't seem to be worried at all about their friendship outside the ring. His phone buzzed again. He read the message:

**No, we're still friends. I don't hate you guys, or anything like that. I'm just saying that it won't be the same. We won't be living in each others back pockets anymore. **

Well, he couldn't really argue with that, even though he wanted to.

_**I guess. Are you happy?**_

**Happy that we won't be hanging around, or happy about what's happening?**

_**Yes.**_

A long silence. Roman leaned forward, wishing the Motrin would work and his back would stop aching. When Seth finally responded, Roman realized he'd taken so long because he had to type a rather long message:

**I'm not happy that we won't be able to hang around with each other as much. I like you guys and I'll miss that. But I am happy about the changes. I think we took The Shield as far as it could go. If we kept it up, it was going to start getting stale. This way, we can all pursue single careers. I loved our time as The Shield, but my goal was never to be a member of the best faction in the WWE, my goal is and always was, to be one of the best superstars of the WWE. And I think this is the next step on that road.**

Roman seriously thought about returning an equally long, if not longer text, explaining how he and Dean both felt that they had broken The Shield up too soon, that in the long run, The Powers That Be would realize they had made a mistake that could not be fixed. He thought about telling Seth that while he was glad Seth was happy, he, Roman, was a bit more reserved to what the future held. But he was just too exhausted to argue. _ I wish I was asleep,_ he thought, as he typed his return message and hit send:

_**I guess.**_

Seth's response was shorter, and thus, faster than his previous one:

**I get the feeling you're not too thrilled with this. I'm surprised. I thought Dean might be a little pissed, but I figured you'd realize this is all for the best.**

_This is it,_ Roman thought. _This is the point of no return. Either I give it to him, get into the argument, or forever hold my peace. If I don't do it right now, I won't be able to do it later without looking like a wuss. _He started to type, trying to think of the words he needed to use to make his point without sounding like he was just bitter about it. Then, he stopped, erased what he wrote and typed out something else instead.

_**Sorry, it's cool. I'm just exhausted and not thinking straight. My back is killing me. It's been a very long couple of days and I need to get some sleep.**_

**I understand. I'm pretty tired too. I won't keep you, I just wanted to check in.**

_**I appreciate it, thanks.**_

He hit send, figuring they were both done, then hesitated and typed out one last message:

_**You might want to text Dean. Just a suggestion.**_

**Okay, maybe I will.**

_So,_ Roman thought as he went back to scrolling through his messages. _ It ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper. _ The Motrin was just starting to work, some of the sharp edges to his pain had dulled down a bit and he was grateful. As he rolled his shoulders to get the kinks out, he noticed he had a voice message from Jessica. Worried that something was wrong, he started to dial the voice mail number, when "I'll Be Your Baby," the ring tone he had assigned to any calls from Jessica's cell phone started playing. He answered the phone. "Jess?"

"Roman," her voice was soft, but held no traces of sleep. "I've been worried, didn't you get my message?"

"I'm sorry, I was just about to listen to it," Roman said, mentally cursing himself for not having checked is phone earlier. "Things were a little crazy at the end of the show, and I totally forgot to turn my phone back on. I didn't remember until I got to the hotel. Again, I'm sorry."

"I'm not surprised," she said, a faint note of amusement in her voice. "Things got pretty _interesting_ on the show."

"That's one way of putting it." He was surprised at how pleased he was that she had watched Raw. She usually watched it, but he had thought after their conversation this morning that she might be mad enough to skip it, but she hadn't. He hoped this was a good sign.

"How soon did you know this was going to happen?" she asked.

"Since this morning. Right after I got off the phone with you, we had a meeting to discuss this. We weren't given an option on if we were going to break up, that was a given. But we were allowed to plead our case for who got to the one to destroy it."

"Let me guess," Jessica said. "You and Dean stayed very quiet and secretly each hoped it wouldn't have to be you. Seth almost jumped out of his seat to be the one."

He was stunned speechless for a moment. _How did she know? _"Yeah," he finally said. "That's exactly what happened. How did you know?"

"I didn't know for sure," she said. "But I could guess."

"I didn't," he admitted. "I thought none of us would really be thrilled with the idea, but that eventually, Dean would agree, because it would be the type of thing he'd do. I guess you're smarter than me."

"No, it's not smarter," she disagreed. "You thought that would happen because it was what you _wanted_ to happen."

"Huh?" There was a mindless muted sitcom playing on the TV, he hit the power button on the remote, ending the visuals as easily as he'd ended the sound earlier.

"You _wanted_ Dean to be the one," Jessica said.

"I did?" he asked, hoping his tone was playful and curious. Their conversation from this morning- _No, our fight, be honest_-still played in his head. He wasn't sure if things were better between the two of them, or they were just calmer now.

"Yes," Jessica said. "Because if it was Dean, he would have done his part, but then done everything he could to make sure that it stayed on the show, that off the show you were all still friends. Seth won't."

He was dumbfounded for a moment, because she was right. He was in the middle of the whole situation and he hadn't even seen it, but she was 100% right.

"I"m not saying Seth won't stay friends with you," she continued. "He will, but this is the golden chance for him and he's not going to do anything to jeopardize it, even if it means that your friendship goes from being 'The three guy bromance of the century,' to 'Those two other guys I work with.'"

"He's glad it happened," Roman admitted softly. "He thinks it's for the best in the long run."

"That sounds like Seth," she said. "Let me guess, you and Dean think it was too soon."

"Yeah, we do." He was amazed sometimes at how good she was at getting to the bottom of things.

"I agree with you," she said. "And not just because I know how much you liked being in The Shield, I'm saying it as someone who watches and actually can get into the characters you're playing. I don't think you've taken Shield as far as you could. You were almost at the top, but I think you still had a little further you could have gone. But, being the WWE and forgetting sometimes that it's as much about the characters as it is the fights, they figured you had fought and beat the Authority twice, now it was time to do the usual, yeah, you won the fight, but Authority wins the war, yada, yada, lather, rinse, repeat."

"But Seth and a lot of the Powers That Be thought it was a good idea," he reminded her, playing the devil's advocate. So far, she was agreeing with him, but he was curious as to what further insight she had to offer to the situation. "So, maybe they know something Dean and I don't."

"The Powers That Be are scared," she said. "They have to keep the ratings up. And unfortunately, that's a whole game in itself, the numbers game. Advertisers want a guaranteed audience because they break it up by numbers, every X number of viewers means they sell another product. They don't care that sometimes numbers slip and it's nobodies fault, and sometimes you need a slow build until you get to the big payoff. If the ratings drop, they want something, _anything_, to happen to pop them back up again in time for the very next show. It doesn't matter if it ruins anything and everything in the works, just get the numbers up as high as possible as instantly as possible."

"Yeah, I know that," he agreed. The numbers were everything, they all knew that and they certainly caught enough grief when the numbers were not good. "But Seth..." he let his voice trail off.

"Seth is driven," Jessica said. "I don't know if it's his upbringing or just something in the way he's made, but when Seth sets a goal, nothing is more important to him than completing it. I'd say it was a borderline obsession, but I don't think it's borderline. His goal is to get to the top, he will not stop until he does. He doesn't deliberately set out to alienate people he considers friends, but if that happens on the way to the top? Well, that's just collateral damage and he's willing to write it off if he has to."

"Wow," Roman murmured. "How come you seem to know more about him than I do and I've practically been living with him the last few years?"

"He's stayed with us a few times," she reminded him. "So, I've had a chance to observe him. You've been so close to him that you haven't necessarily seen all of him, or if you did, you dismissed it. I'm not saying I don't like Seth, I do. He's always been very nice when he's stayed with us. Leah likes him and she's an excellent judge of character."

_But she likes Dean a little bit more_, he thought to himself, remember the times Dean had dropped by the house and Leah had flung herself into his arms, squealing happily and calling him "Unca Dean," and searching his pockets (with his permission) for chewing gum. She would hug "Uncle Seth" too, but it was never with the same enthusiasm. And she never tried to search Seth's pockets for treats.

He realized, with a start, that he didn't want to talk about Seth or The Shield anymore. He didn't know if he would feel differently in the morning, but for right now, he was bone tired and weary. Of Seth, of the WWE, of wrestling _and_ The Shield. "Uh, not to change the subject," he said. "But I never did check your message, nothing is wrong back home, is it?"

"No," she said, changing gears right along with him. "I called because I was worried about you after watching the show. Leah is fine, I know you got her message because I saw you returned it just before I decided to call you. That's how I knew you must have been awake."

"Yeah, I'm still awake," he said. "My back looks like raw meat, which isn't helping, but I popped some Motrin and it's starting to take effect. I think I'll be able to fall asleep in a bit. Which reminds me, why aren't you sleeping? It's pretty late."

"I couldn't sleep until I talked to you," she admitted. "We didn't exactly end our last conversation on an upbeat note."

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it." He drew in a deep breath and before she could talk, he plunged ahead. "Look, I'm sorry. I know this is tough for you, I know you're trying to do everything, and I'm not giving my fair share when it comes to raising Leah. I do try my hardest to keep in touch with her by phone and Skype, but I know that isn't the day to day raising of her. I know that right now, about the only thing I contribute is money and maybe it's time I thought about-"

"Roman!" her voice was sharp as she interrupted him. He wondered if she had been trying to stop him before but he'd been so determined to get everything out that he hadn't heard her. "Roman, don't underestimate what you do. Unless you're someplace where the timezone is backwards so you're working when it's morning here, every single morning you're on the road, you Skype with Leah before she goes off to school. Even if you only got an hours worth of sleep, you're there for her. If you can, you skype with her after school. You ask her about her day, you listen to her when she tells you every detail that goes on in her life. You know her favorite color, what book she wants read to her, what book she's trying to read herself, and the names of all her friends, real and imaginary. No, you aren't here 24/7, but when it comes to Leah, you find a way to be a huge part of her life. Remember when you missed her school play last month?"

"Yeah, I do." He had felt bad about that, it was his daughter's first school production and she had played a flower. Jessica had captured the whole thing on video, but it wasn't the same as actually being in the audience.

"When we were driving home, I asked her if she was sad because you couldn't make it. Do you know what she said?"

"No."

"She said, 'That's okay, Mommy. When Daddy comes home we can watch it together! I get to be in the play _and _to watch it too!' She wasn't upset at all, she thought she was lucky. You might not be there at the table every dinner to watch her eating mac and cheese, but when you are with her those couple hours a day, you are _with her_. I knew plenty of kids growing up that had fathers that were home every night, but almost never spent any time with them."

"I want to be part of her life," he said. "A big part. She's only going to be a kid once, I don't want to miss out on her growing up like my dad missed out with me and my sibs. I don't blame Dad, he supported us, did what he had to, but in his days, there was no Skype and phone calls across a distance actually cost money. If technology makes it so I can keep in touch, then hooray for technology. He got off the bed while they were talking and went over to the mini fridge in the room. Opening it up, he took one of the bottles of water he'd put in there when he first got into the room and felt it. It wasn't super cold yet, but it wasn't warm anymore either. He opened it and went back to sitting bed. "But, that's Leah. How about you? I'm not doing so great with you, am I?"

A soft, gentle sigh came from the other end of the line. "I miss you," she finally said. "I know this is what you want, I know this is what makes you happy, but I miss you _so_ much."

She didn't sound like a woman who was ready to end their relationship, this sounded like a woman who was just.._.weary_. Roman felt as if a ball of ice had been in his stomach since this morning, a ball of ice that he hardly even knew was there, even though it was burning cold and painful and he was only aware of how much pain it had caused, because it finally seemed to be melting, giving him relief. "I miss you too," he said. "A lot. I wish I was with you right now."

"That's why I was so upset this morning," she admitted. "I try to understand, and most of the time I do, but sometimes it-it_ hurts_, I miss you so bad. And I was feeling that way the last couple of days. And then I realized that it's my turn to drive Leah and her friends to school this week. And that I agreed to make snacks for the school party this week, and of course, everything at work is in crisis mode. There seem to be a bunch of things I have to do and I know that if you were around, you'd help me with them. That, on top of missing you, I just felt so _overwhelmed_."

"I don't want you to feel that way," he said. "Ever. I just don't know what I can do about it. I could leave the WWE, maybe try another line of work, but-"

"No," she interrupted him. "This makes you happy. I know you miss us, but I also know you love this. It's where you want to be and it's where you belong. I won't take that away from you. I won't have you one day looking at Leah and I and wondering if the trade off was worth it, us for your dream. We will find a way to make it work. Just please, understand that sometimes I am going to feel like I'm drowning. Listen to me if you're able. Let me talk about it. But, even more so, _let me know if you're feeling the same way._ Don't play brave, tell me so I know it's not just me. Tell me you wish we were sleeping by my side, tell me you miss keeping me company while I make dinner for the three of us. Tell you wish there were more quiet nights where we could just sit, relax, and watch a movie together. Tell me that the moment you get home, you're going to ravish me until I'm too weak to walk, because you miss me _that_ much."

"I thought that went without saying," he said, grinning. "But, if you want to hear it, I'll say it. Hell, if I wasn't so tired now, I'd give you a blow by blow description of exactly what I want to do to you the next time we're alone."

She giggled, something she didn't do as often now as she had when they were younger. She laughed now, but the giggling seemed to be reserved for times when she was feeling less like a parent and more like the barely adult woman she had been when they first met. The sound further melted that ice ball in his chest. "If it wasn't so late and I hadn't seen the beating you took tonight, I _might_ take you up on that offer. "

"We have to film Smackdown tomorrow," he said. "But I am going to get a couple days off after that. I'm going to get the first flight I can and come home so we'll have some time together. How does that sound?"

"That sounds wonderful," she said, her voice sounding so content that it was almost dreamy.

"And, Dean even promised that he wouldn't call me," he went on, enjoying the sound of her voice, even if it did make him want to be with her even more. "He's worried that he's caused strain by calling me when I'm home, so he's promised to text me first and not worry if I don't respond."

She treated him to another one of those giggles. "Tell him thank you," she began. "Or, better yet, let me tell him."

"You want me to have him call you when I see him next?" he asked, puzzled.

"No," she said. "I'm saying that if he's got those same days off, and he wants to, have him come with you."

"No," he said, quickly. "You said this morning-"

"-This morning you were still The Shield and everything was fine," she interrupted. "Now it's not fine. And I know The Shield was Dean's family. You loved it, Seth appreciated it, but Dean _needed_ it. And now it's gone. It won't be the same anymore, you all know it, but for a couple days, we can include him in our family."

"Wow," he knew he sounded shocked, but hoped she heard it as a good shocked. "You're amazing. Anyone else feeling the way you were earlier wouldn't dream of letting me invite him home."

"Well, I do have an ulterior motive," she admitted. "Maybe one of those nights, he can sit with his favorite niece and we can have ourselves an old fashioned date night. How does that sound?"

He smiled. "That sounds pretty great."

"I think so, too."

He heard her yawn and realized that while he could sleep a few more hours after he had his Skype time with Leah, she had to go to work. "Baby girl, I'm going to let you get some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow and I'll see you soon."

"See you soon," she agreed, her voice softer and more sleep filled. "I love you, Roman. With all my heart."

"I love you, too. Always."

He shut down the phone and put it on his nightstand. His eyes were so heavy, it actually hurt to keep them open. He knew he should pull the bedspread off the bed, but he was so tired, maybe he'd just lay down for just a moment, just long enough to summon the energy.

As he drifted off to sleep, one last conscious thought entered his mind. _Am I going crazy, or did I _really_ just agree to let Dean babysit Leah?_

The End.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: Now I'm half tempted to write a sequel where Dean gets to babysit Leah for the night<em>_. __ If you thing I should do that, let me know and I just might. _

_Thanks for reading until the end, I appreciate it. If you liked it, let me know. If you hated it, let me know, but I'm warning you, if you hate it, I will try to pick your brain and find out exactly why, because I'll never know how to improve if I don't know specifically what I'm doing wrong. _


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